
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5187857.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Rick_and_Morty
  Relationship:
      Rick_Sanchez/Morty_Smith
  Character:
      Morty_Smith, Rick_Sanchez, Brad, Or_whatever_Jessica's_side_hoe's_name_is
  Additional Tags:
      Incest, Grandfather/Grandson_-_Freeform, dirty_talking, Masturbation,
      Blue_Balls, poor_bby, Public_Humiliation, Somewhat??, Bus_jerkin_it,
      Daddy_Kink, I'm_sorry_for_that_one_oml
  Series:
      Part 7 of Rick_and_Morty_porn
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-11-11 Words: 2010
****** Talk Dirty To Me, Papi Dulce ******
by mortysmithh
Summary
     I added in some Spanish because Rick fucking Sanchez is absolutely a
     Spanish-speaker don't touch me
     Sorry if I butchered anything, I'm still learning!! ;w;
     For the lovely theseamphibiandays: So I have this headcannon that
     Morty gets super turned on by any kind of vocalization from Rick,
     like his moans or Rick saying his name, so one day Rick replaces
     every one of Morty's songs on his phone with dirty recordings of him
     moaning his name and telling Morty what he's going to do to him when
     he gets home, and so when Morty is riding the bus to school he puts
     in his earbuds and just hears Rick jacking off and saying the most
     filthy things and he's super turned on the rest of the school day
     I hope I did your idea justice!!
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
The expression on Rick Sanchez’s face isn’t exactly evil, per se, but
mischievous doesn’t even come close to what’s laced into the smirk etched on
his face as he messes with Morty’s iPhone at three in the morning.
He messes around with the files on his computer, double-checking that each one
is an oh-so-sexy recording of his own voice. Not that he’s (very) narcissistic
or anything, but he’s quite proud of what he’s managed to do. If he weren’t so
busy making sure Morty gets a very nice surprise tomorrow morning, he’d open up
a portal and fuck an alternate of his.
Shaking the thought out of his head, he mutters to himself ‘focus, you fuck, he
gets up in like an hour or something’ and renames the last two files to song
names from the music files on Morty’s device. “Mmhm, absolutely fuckin’
perfect, just like a Rick, if I do say so myself,” he mumbles, sipping from
some random bottle that he got off of the floor as the files upload to Morty’s
phone, replacing all of the real songs with the false ones.
He gets everything finished up in the next twenty minutes, double-checking and
triple-checking it all before quietly sneaking up to put the phone back on it’s
charging stand, then leaving with a barely-suppressed snicker.
Now the expression on his face can be considered ‘evil’.
===============================================================================
“You Spin Me Right Round: Pentatonix Covers”
‘Perfect,’ Morty thinks to himself with a smile, selecting it with an
anticipatory little squeak, only to have to clap a hand over his mouth to keep
from squawking at the gruff moan that booms in his ears. He quickly turns down
the volume, grateful for the fact that it’s so early in the morning on such a
cold Winter day that, if anyone heard it, nobody saw that it was him, and it’s
not like he’s someone you’d want to sit next to on the bus.
Morty Smith in the morning is a force to be reckoned with, for sure.
His exhausted, bleary mind is jerked back into almost-oversharp focus as Rick
groans into his ear (slightly quieter because for fuck’s sakes, no amount of
delicious public humiliation is worth getting actually caught, on the school
bus no less) something absolutely filthy.
“Mmmh, daddy’s little bitch, aren’t you? Such a good boy, all ready for me to
fuck,” and the way he growls out that last word, like he knows Morty’s his
bitch and his bitch alone, sends a shot of hot arousal up his spine that cools
off almost immediately to a solid presence that slips down into his lower gut.
Chewing on his lip, he palms at himself through his pants, silently praising
whatever deities that might exist for it still being so dark that he’s unable
to see his own hand in front of his face. He nearly jumps out of his seat when
Rick groans, and this time it sounds almost exactly like Rick’s really there
with him, and for a split second, he can almost feel his grandpa’s hands on his
body, touching him with long, calloused fingers, instead of with Morty’s
delicate, admittedly slightly stubby ones.
‘The fucker used a 3-D microphone to mess with me, oh, god, fuck, I am SO
getting him back once I get home,’ he thinks to himself even as he palms at
himself harder, chewing on his lip and aggravating it enough that a small split
forms and the taste of iron floods the tip of his tongue even as he quite
suddenly sits up, adjusting himself in his pants so that his boner isn’t
visible and the hiss of the bus doors opening sounds.
He yanks out one earbud, turning the volume down but still listening to Rick
moaning and grunting heatedly into his ear.
‘Mmmh, you dirty little slut, you want my dick, don’t you, you little shit? You
want me to fuck you, right? Nnnngh, fuck, I’m so ready to fuck you so hard in
the ass that you won’t be able to walk for a goddamn WEEK. No adventures, no
school, just me sucking your pretty little dick off and making you weak from
cumming. I’ll only keep doing that until you’re ready for my massive cock
again, mmmmnh, Mort-’
“HELLO?” The word is shouted into his ear, and he yelps, nearly jumping out of
his skin and cheeks going bright red as he realizes Brad and his gang are up in
his face. Yanking out his earbud and pressing pause on his phone, he looks up
at the other male, smiling weakly and rubbing at the back of his neck
awkwardly.
“O-Oh, jeez, sorry ab- a-about that, I’m- I-I, uh, h-how- how’s it goin’, B-
Brad?”
Instead of the usual taunting, Brad just tilts a brow at his strange attitude
and the way he’s stammering even more than usual. He’s a prick, but he isn’t
heartless, and it’s with a half-assed shove to Morty’s shoulder that he brushes
past the boy without saying anything.
Heart pounding, he chastises himself internally; he’d already almost been
caught, he really, really shouldn’t listen to any more. At least, not until he
gets on the bus home, or until he’s somewhere more alone, more private, but
Rick’s voice echoes in his head once more, and it’s with a shaky sigh that he
plugs an earphone back into his ear and presses play, turning the volume up
since the hallway’s grown more crowded with students.
‘Ohhh god, Morty, you’re such a tight little slut, aren’t you? Already hard and
ready for me to fuck you into the damn mattress. Wanna see how many times we
can go before you pass out? I bet we can break the bed before th-’
The first bell rings, and he jumps again, running his hands over his face in a
semi-exasperated attempt to keep his blush from getting too horrible, even
though his face already feels like it’s on fire. Hurrying to get to his first
period class, he shakes his head, pausing the audio clip and making a
resolution to not listen to anymore, so that he doesn’t get distracted.
The first thing he notices when he gets there is that there’s a substitute, and
he’s had her before. She never gives two shits about whether you’re on your
device or not, or what you’re even doing in the class, because as long as the
work’s done and nobody’s done anything she can be held liable for, she doesn’t
care.
He gets a thought. A horrible, terrible thought that he knows he absolutely
should not act upon, but it’s almost robotically that he shoves one earbud into
an ear, careful to keep the other ear open in case he needs to check that the
volume’s not so loud that people around him can hear. Luckily, everyone’s
trying to get a turn on the computers, and he’s left sitting at his desk with a
worksheet in front of him. A bitter thought runs through his mind; ‘Whatever
asshole put me in Latin in first period is a real dick’, as he glares down at
his paper.
And then Rick distracts him.
‘Mmm, mi pequeña puta traviesa. Do you remember what that means, Morty? It
means that you’re my filthy, naughty little bitch.’
A horribly salacious moan follows after, the sound gritty and rough and
everything he loves about Rick’s voice, reminding him of the especially hoarse
way his grandfather’s tone will drop even further, vibrating in his very toes
as he fucks into Morty-
He doesn’t realize that he’s closed his eyes in mortified bliss until the bell
for second period rings and he jumps with a soft squeak that, thankfully,
nobody’s around to hear. He quickly shoves his things into his backpack,
yanking the earbud back out and making a resolution to not listen to anything
until he gets home. ‘Or, at least, back onto the bus,’ his mind decides to
chime in, and he decides that listening to it on the bus probably isn’t too bad
of an idea. It’s a hell of a lot safer than listening to it in class, anyways.
But despite the tingling fear in the back of his mind that he’ll get caught
listening to outright vocal porn in class, he continues to listen in each
class, and as he walks out of seventh period with a relieved sigh, he has to
duck back into the restroom to readjust his raging boner. He thought that World
History might kill it, but apparently Rick Sanchez’s gritty tones are more than
adequate for keeping up a seven-hour case of self-imposed blue balls.
He sighs and checks his reflection in the mirror, and, aside from looking a bit
pink, he decides that he doesn’t look too flustered, and runs to catch his bus.
Seating himself at the very back of the bus, he only hesitates for a few
moments before checking that nobody else is sitting even remotely close to him.
Then, selecting a ‘song’ at random, he lets his eyes slip shut and Rick’s voice
float into his ears once more.
‘God, you little whore, how have you already m-EURGH- made it to this recording
already? I bet you’ve been thinking of me aaaalll dayy long,’ he drawls out,
slurring ever so slightly and his voice doing the thing where it’s almost as if
he’s right there, somehow walking around Morty as he says such horrible,
wonderful things.
Chewing on his bottom lip and carefully palming at his dick in a totally
conspicuous way, he lets his mind wander, coming up with countless scenarios,
all of them involving Rick tying him up or restraining him in some way while
wrecking him with his talent with dirty talking.
“SMITH! We’re at your stop, come on son, ye can’t keep fallin’ asleep on th’
damn bus!” The burly Scottish bus driver shouts his surname, jerking Morty into
an upright position. He grabs his stuff and gives the red-bearded man a weak,
blushy smile as apology before he practically sprints to his house, desperately
needing to masturbate before his dick explodes. He didn’t realize he needed it
so bad until he’d pulled his hand away, thanking any gods that may exist that
his dick’s still how he’d rearranged himself earlier.
He practically slams the door open in his haste, bolting up the stairs as
quickly as he can with a heavy backpack, dropping it to the floor and leaning
against the wall as he unzips his pants and pulls out his rock hard dick,
stroking it and biting his lip so hard that he can feel the skin threatening to
break.
Then his bedroom door opens, Rick leaning against the doorway and wearing the
most shit-eating grin Morty’s seen in a long time. “Soooo, enjoy my present,
Morty? Y-You know, it took me like five outtakes for each recording; you know
how hard it is to not burp while telling your grandson just how many fingers
you’re going to sink into his ass?”
And he’s done, cumming into his fist with a buck of his hips and tearing up
slightly with how good it is to finally be able to cum, and with Rick right in
front of him, no less. His grandfather doesn’t say anything, not even cracking
a joke about ‘not lasting at all, damn, Morty.’ No, instead, he walks over,
uncurls Morty’s hand from his dick, brings it up to his mouth, and licks it
clean, leaving several areas of the kid’s hand damp with saliva and a filth
that goes much deeper than any physical levels.
“Mmh, well, I guess that answers my question. W-Wanna go down- go to the- my
special room, a-and do exactly as I said I would, cariño?” 
The visible shudder that runs up Morty’s spine is more than enough, and he
grabs Morty’s hand, tugging him down to the garage and snickering as he glances
back to see the boy’s dick already starting to get hard once more. This is
going to be fun.
 
End Notes
     Tumblr's kinkykankri, gimme fic ideas and, as always, leave Kudos and
     comments!! <33
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